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January 3, 2017



Blame it on such little knowledge,

where truth never enters in.

Blame it on unsettled waters.

Take each blow on the chin.


Blame it on a rumour dancing

rampant, wild and free.

Blame it on the changing wind,

but never, please, on me.


Blame it on a freak of nature

or fate, if you must.

Blame it on ancient history,

and facts now showing rust.


Blame it on a turning tide,

that took all by surprise.

Blame it on a burnt out candle,

too dark, the compromise.


Blame it on volcanic eruption –

hot lava running free.

Blame it on the mighty force,

greater than you or me.


Blame it on an ocean angry,

once a mill pond still.

Blame it on compounded interest.

Obsession pays the bill.


Blame it on a twisted theory,

thought out late at night.

Blame it on a lack of sleep,

where no sheep in sight.


Blame it on a pressure point,

ready to explode.

Blame it on an even number –

what odds to crack the code?


Blame it on a life of listening,

to those unsatisfied.

Blame it on the truth remote –

not seeing the other side.


Blame it on a strange conundrum,

as events unraveled.

Blame it on a full compartment,

whilst standing as one travelled.


Blame it on a tiny gene,

you never would have guessed.

Blame it on unbroken habits,

never laid to rest.


Blame it on uneven ground,

so hellish under foot.

Blame it on a second sense,

ignored, too late, tut-tut.


Blame it on what you will –

the choice is there to take.

Blame it on what takes a fancy,

just don’t keep God awake.


Blame it on a melting snowflake,

far too short it’s stay.

Blame it on a random meeting,

when eyes, too long did stray.


Blame it on a lack of courage,

slipping through the fingers.

Blame it on wrong company –

all those late night clingers.


Blame it on a structured childhood,

too strict, to run free.

Blame it on the devil-may-care,

still inside of thee.


Blame it on the forgone masters,

mapping out ones world.

Blame it on those who knew best –

the dunce in the corner curled.


Blame it on the break for freedom,

that’s there to explore.

Blame it on the chance not taken,

to unlock the door.


Blame it on the ‘what if’ motto,

as hesitancy prevails.

Blame it on oneself, as always-

tortoise versus snails.


Blame it on the game of circles,

that the mind knows well.

Blame it on such low esteem –

success one cannot smell.


Blame it on a crust of eggshells –

sensitivity covering.

Blame it on black jackdaws, crazed,

menacingly hovering.


Blame it on a beam of sunlight,

slowly peeping through.

Blame it on whatever you like,

but see opportunity too.


Blame it on a bout of madness,

that many others know.

Blame it on self-imposed isolation,

or get out there and grow.


Blame it on the easy option,

taken by so many.

Blame it on the charging lemmings –

sense had they  – not any.


Blame it on a life imprisoned,

from a past one can’t escape.

Blame it on the love of failure,

slowly strangled by red tape.


Blame it on a passing stranger –

‘What if, to digest.

Blame it on a sense of duty,

loyalty stands the test.


Blame it on a life fantastic,

played out in disguise.

Blame it on old memories,

alone, the heart still cries.


Blame it on a new discovery,

bouncing around the head.

Blame it on a new day dawning –

the past, forever dead.





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August 31, 2016



So free the mind of everyday clutter.

Forgotten are days of woe.

No returning to muddy waters,

on a tug that sailed long ago.


So free the mind of knotted seaweed,

that the hippocampus knew well.

Now the mind on a voyage of discovery,

without baggage, as heavy as hell.


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April 14, 2016



And people came, hoping to fit in;

a new life willing to begin.


No sea too risky or too deep,

to sap their strength – no time to weep.


Each one battling fear and fright,

for a chance of freedom – knuckles white.


Survivors of life’s cruellest game;

to live in peace their only aim. 





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and sunlight came today;

I gave myself a break,

away from a self absorbed existence –

a breathe of fresh air to partake.


and vision came today;

depression to replace.

My mind flooding with ideas,

I re-joined the human race.


and hope came by today;

a future I could see.

Solitude, a draughty corridor,

that nearly was the death of me.  





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December 26, 2015



The bench, my own

just for tonight.

Warm wooded slats,

the soul, to excite.


Free from the draught

of winter’s bite,

and wind blown leaves,

and doggy shite.



The bench, my own

til morning light.

The sky my ceiling,

twinkling bright.


No mortgage plan.

No rent arrears.

My shower – rain water,

hiding tears.



The bench, my own;

I slept well last night.

And awoke with new hope;

the aroma right.


Near my arm, a Big Mac:

I knew there was a god.

And a can of beer tied with tinsel

left by some kindly sod.





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November 1, 2015



I daily wait

at water’s edge.

My open heart

to him I pledge.


The point at which

we two last kissed,

I return to daily.

I can’t resist.


To recall the moment,

I never tire.

His love alone

all that I desire.


Please God let

his ship return.

And sight of bow

replace the stern.


I daily wait

at water’s edge.

My open heart

to him I pledge.


The one for me,

the only one.

My life on hold

since he’s been gone.




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October 6, 2015



Oh mind that sees me

short of rest,

in the wee small hours;

I do protest.

I need this time

to clear my head.

In the wee small hours

whilst in my bed.


Oh mind that keeps me

from shut eye,

in the wee small hours,

disturbed, I lie.

I need this time;

give me a break.

In the wee small hours,

for pity’s sake.


Oh mind that sends me

on the same dream,

in the wee small hours,

I awake and scream.

I need this time,

to keep my senses keen.

In the wee small hours

grant me, sleep serene.



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September 24, 2015



And towards the junction of the road,

undecided, dear Erasmus strode.

Three choices had he at this brow;

go left or right, or return home now.


But going left just wasn’t right;

the west not on his satellite,

and if going right, all that was left,

would the eastern star find him bereft?


So although freedom, Erasmus yearned,

from the unknown, his back he turned.

And no other option had he now,

but to seek out middle ground, somehow.




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And as we tread

the road to nowhere,

our onward journey

not in vain.

For with each step

around every corner

waits a new adventure

life cannot explain.


And as we tread

the road to nowhere,

a mistimed plan

can change the day

For with each step

around every corner,

courage of conviction

sees us pave the way.


And as we tread

the road to nowhere,

New horizons

ours to own.

For with each step

around every corner,

a trusted hand awaits;

we are not alone.



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May 2, 2015



and the window of

her soul; double glazed.

To keep out the sound.

To keep in fire, that blazed.


and the window of

her heart; single paned.

To gather moisture,

from cheeks, tear stained.


and the window of

her mind; thin plastic.

To scratch the surface

of a life, fantastic.


and the windows of

her eyes; fresh air.

No defense has she,

for she is not there.



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